


Family Emergency

by sahiya



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, H/C bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and River's vows had been short on details, it was true, but Amy thought it was rather implied that you didn’t dump your sick husband on your unsuspecting parents and scarper off in his time machine. Rather obvious spoilers for 6x13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "taking care of someone" square on [my h/c bingo](http://sahiya.livejournal.com/652589.html#cutid1) card.

Amy woke in the gray, early morning hours to the sound of the TARDIS materializing in the back garden. She blinked hard, certain she must be dreaming, until Rory groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. “They’d better not’ve crushed the herb garden again,” he mumbled.

Amy patted his back. “I’ve got it,” she said, and got up to twitch back the curtains. There she was, the TARDIS - parked for once in the police box-sized patch where Rory never planted anything.

Amy smiled. That sort of accuracy meant River must be driving.

She shrugged into her dressing gown and pulled on a pair of socks and padded downstairs. It’d rained the night before and the garden would be muddy; she shoved her feet into wellies and thumped down the back steps just as the door to the TARDIS slammed open.

River stumbled out, staggering under the weight of the Doctor, half-draped across her back. Amy gasped and ran the rest of the way down the garden path. She got there just in time to catch him as he slid off River’s shoulder and ease him down onto the grass. “River, what -”

“Not now,” River said urgently, scanning the Doctor with the sonic screwdriver. She held it up to read it and then sagged back in relief. “He’s already started metabolizing it. Thank God.”

“Metabolizing what?” Amy demanded, noticing for the first time that both the Doctor and River were dressed in evening wear, now distinctly muddied. “River, what’s going on?”

River sighed. “Help me get him inside and I’ll explain. Where’s Dad?”

“Upstairs asleep, he’s been working late shifts the last couple of weeks. Are _you_ okay?” Amy asked, eyeing River in concern.

River gave her a rather weak smile. “Mostly. Come on,” she said, pulling the Doctor into a sitting position and slinging one arm over her shoulders. “Give me a hand, and I promise I’ll tell you what happened.”

Between the two of them and a great deal of grunting, not to mention a scraped knee (Amy) and a stubbed toe (River), they managed to get the Doctor into the house. Rory appeared on the stairs in his dressing gown just as they were dragging the Doctor into the downstairs guestroom. “What the hell is going on?” he asked blearily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“River’s promised to tell us,” Amy grunted, as she and River finally heaved the Doctor onto the bed. River set about removing most of his clothes, right down to his boxers - which were covered, Amy was amused to see, in bright red bowties. “Didn’t you, River?” she added pointedly, when River didn’t say anything.

“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid,” River said, pulling the duvet out from under the Doctor and tucking it over him. She smoothed a hand over the Doctor’s chest and then sat down on the bed beside him. She glanced up and the look on her face made Amy cross the room immediately to put her arms around her. Rory followed and sat on the opposite edge of the bed, picking up the Doctor’s wrist to take his pulse

River leaned her head against Amy’s stomach. “He took me to the opera on New New York, the opening of the Met’s _Tristan and Isolde_. Afterwards there was a reception - a ball, really. I don’t know how anyone knew who he was, or even if they did know who he was, waiters just kept coming by with food and drink - then all of the sudden he grabbed my arm and said we needed to get back to the TARDIS. As soon as we got there he just keeled over.”

Amy rested a hand on River’s head. “In the garden, you said he was metabolizing it. _It_ being - poison?”

She nodded. “He’ll be all right,” she said, turning to look at the Doctor. “In a day or two. My God,” she murmured, reaching out to touch the Doctor’s cheek, lightly. “He looks so young like this, when you can’t see his eyes.”

“But, River,” Rory said, “why bring him here?”

River glanced up. “He’s safe here. I knew you’d look after him, you and Mum.”

“Well, of course we will, but it’s not safer here than in the TARDIS, is it?” Amy replied.

River shook her head, pulling away from Amy. “I need the TARDIS.”

“What - you’re not leaving, are you?” Rory demanded.

“Someone tried to hurt him,” River said, voice as hard as diamonds. “No one gets to do that.”

Amy glanced toward Rory. He frowned and shook his head. “River -” Amy began, carefully.

“ _No one_.”

Amy snapped her mouth shut. Rory caught her eye and then reached for their daughter’s hand. “At least stay until he wakes up,” he said. “It wouldn’t do him any good to wake up and find you and the TARDIS both gone, would it?”

River looked like she might have liked to argue, but then thought better of it. “No, I suppose not,” she conceded. She let her breath out. “I’ll stay until he wakes up.”

“Good.” Rory stood. “I’ll just go put the kettle on, then, shall I?” He shuffled out, leaving Amy alone with River and the Doctor.

“River,” Amy said quietly after a few moments of silence.

“Don’t, Mum.” River’s voice wavered. “Please.”

“Okay,” Amy said, squeezing River’s shoulder. “Okay,” she said again, and left to help Rory with the tea, while River sat by the Doctor and waited for him to wake up.

***

Rory made tea and Amy made toast and the two of them together managed to coax River away from the Doctor to eat some of it. She looked tired and worried and grim, even as she told them about her latest adventures with the Doctor (editing, Amy was sure, for parentally appropriate content; she’d done it often enough herself to recognize the signs, and wasn’t it strange to be on the other side of _that_ ). Amy let Rory handle most of the conversation and sipped her tea with one ear turned toward the guestroom.

Even so, River heard the Doctor wake before she did. She was out of her chair before Amy had even registered the Doctor’s groan. Amy would’ve followed, but Rory stopped her. “Help me with the washing up,” he said, “and then we’ll take the Doctor a tray.”

Reluctantly, Amy agreed. Not that the washing up took all that long with just the tea things and the plates from the toast. She brewed another cup of tea while Rory buttered a couple more slices of toast, and then she put everything on a tray with a sprig of lavender in a little vase, like her mother had for her when she was ill (in this universe, where her mother had existed, of course; in the other one, Aunt Sharon hadn’t done much of anything).

“I’m _fine_ ,” the Doctor was saying in a rough, raspy voice when she and Rory finally entered the room. “River, there’s no need to go all vengeful, and I’d really rather you - oh hello, Ponds,” he added, in what Amy was fairly certain was meant to be a chipper tone of voice. It was rather spoiled by the fact that he was white as a sheet and had clearly lost the battle with sitting up. “Would either of you happen to know where my clothes went?”

“Yup,” Amy said, setting the tray on the Doctor’s lap. “But we’re not telling.”

“You’re going to spend at least today and tonight in this bed,” Rory added, seating himself on the edge of said bed. Amy dropped into the bedside armchair and propped her feet up next to him on the mattress. “Nurse’s orders. How are you feeling? And don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

The Doctor sighed, slumping back against the pillows. Clearly, he’d realized he was outnumbered. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “Nothing a cup of tea won’t put right, though.”

“And toast?” Rory asked, shrewdly.

The Doctor eyed the toast warily. “Probably not, unless you want it to make a very quick reappearance.”

“Think we’ll pass, thanks,” Rory said, taking the plate of toast off the tray and handing it to Amy, who put it on the floor, out of sight and mind. “But my Rule 1, Doctor, is that anyone who falls over unconscious in my flowerbed has to stay at least one night before taking my daughter off to God knows where.”

“Aw, Dad, that’s sweet,” River said, with a rather forced smile. “But I’m perfectly capable of taking myself off.”

“Speaking of which,” the Doctor said, glaring up at her, “I’m _fine_. Or I will be. And we don’t know what caused this! It could have been a food allergy. For all we know, New New Yorkers use aspirin as a spice -”

“No one uses aspirin as a spice,” River snapped. “And that’s the point, Doctor. We don’t know, and we need to. If someone knows you’re still alive and is trying to kill you - don’t you think we need to know?”

The Doctor didn’t answer immediately. “Yes,” he said at last, “all right, yes. But can’t it wait? You don’t need to -”

“I’m not going to wait for you to try and talk me out of it once you’re better,” she said, still glaring. “Someone tried to to kill you. No one gets to do that except me, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, whether or not you approve.” She bent and kissed him. “Behave yourself for Mum and Dad.”

“River, please -” the Doctor said, but she was already gone, out the door before any of them could stop her.

None of them spoke for nearly a minute. Finally, Amy got up and joined the Doctor and Rory on the bed. She put her arm around the Doctor’s shoulders and leaned her head against his. “She knows how to take care of herself,” she told him quietly. “No need to worry. She’ll be back in a minute or two at most.”

The Doctor smiled wanly. “I’m sure.”

***

River did not return within a minute or two. The Doctor seemed more resigned than anything else, Amy thought, but at least he didn’t argue much when Rory told him to get some rest. Once he’d dropped off, Rory sighed wearily and said he was going back to bed. “Wake me if he gets worse,” he said, and trudged up the staircase.

“How am I supposed to tell?” Amy muttered to herself. She wished she were the sort of person to keep homemade chicken soup in her freezer. Perhaps she could manage a bit of ginger tea. She thought there might be a bit of ginger root somewhere in the back of the cupboard from her last rather dubious foray into the land of stir-frys.

There was, actually. She peeled it, then sliced it into chunks, and stood at the kitchen window while she waited for the water to boil, staring into the back garden. But it remained stubbornly empty of all transdimensional police boxes.

Ginger tea accomplished, Amy spent the rest of the morning cleaning random things and checking on the Doctor far more often than was probably necessary. He finally woke around noon, just as she was contemplating what to make for lunch. He did not look appreciably better, hollow-eyed and sweaty and not so much pale as green. “Are you sure this isn’t going to kill you?” Amy asked, only half-joking.

“Quite sure,” the Doctor replied, and swallowed convulsively in a way Amy didn’t like at all. “Though it might very well make me wish I were dead.” He swallowed again and attempted to push himself up. “Amy . . .” he said weakly, but she was already there, helping him lever himself upright.

“I’ve got you, Doctor. Just don’t puke on me,” she added hastily, because that was looking like more and more of a distinct possibility all the time. He managed a shaky laugh, but it quickly turned into more of a moan, and Amy hastened to get him into the downstairs loo.

Just in time, too. Amy hung back, wincing, as the Doctor threw up, and wished Rory were awake to deal with this. Better yet, she thought with a stab of irritation, _River_ should be here; she was his wife, and this was one of those things you promised when you got married - well, come to think of it, neither of them had promised anything of the sort in their hasty hand-fasting ceremony, but Amy thought it was rather implied that you didn’t dump your sick husband on your unsuspecting parents and scarper off in his time machine.

But River wasn’t here, and neither was Rory. Briefly, Amy wondered if it might not be better if she simply left him alone. It was terrible, after all, to be so sick with someone standing about staring at you. But however much the Doctor might have wished for her to leave him to suffer in peace, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After a minute or two, when the heaving didn’t stop, she knelt on the floor beside him, resting her hand on his back and rubbing it with long, gentle strokes. His bare skin was clammy with cold sweat, and she could feel the muscles contracting convulsively under her hand.

At last, _at last_ , he stopped heaving, and slumped over against the toilet with a groan, resting his head on his arm. “Shh, shh,” Amy said, even though he hadn’t said anything. She stood and rinsed out one of the water glasses they kept by the sink, then offered it to him full. “Rinse and spit,” she said.

He rinsed and spat. She reached across him and flushed the toilet, then helped him sit back. He was the color of paste, his eyes were streaming, and he was shaking. When he started to slump over, unable to keep himself upright, she helped him lie down on the rug. He still hadn’t said a word.

Thoroughly worried now - not to mention slightly scared, if she were honest with herself - she left him with the promise that she’d be right back and went and fetched a large mug of the ginger tea and the afghan Rory’s great-aunt Matilda had knitted them for their wedding. She considered waking Rory, but she hoped that the worst was over, and he should be down soon, anyway. Until then, she could muddle through on her own.

“Doctor?” she said quietly when she returned. He slitted his eyes open and looked at her. “Here. Don’t want you to get chilled.” She draped the afghan across his bare torso, and the Doctor, to her surprise, curled up beneath it without argument. She sat down crosslegged beside him and helped him shift over until his head was pillowed on her thigh. “There,” she murmured. “That’s better. I know you probably don’t want anything right now, but I have some ginger tea here, when you’re ready. It’ll help your stomach.”

“Oh Pond,” he murmured, eyes drifting shut again. “Thank you.” He forced his eyes open again. “River . . . she hasn’t - she’s not back yet, is she?”

“No, Doctor, I’m sorry,” Amy said, stroking his hair back from his face. The Doctor nodded, looking utterly miserable. He would never say so, Amy thought, but he had to be wishing for his own bed, his own TARDIS, his own _wife_. River should be here, she thought again, angry now on the Doctor’s behalf. He didn’t deserve to be abandoned like this, even if she and Rory were capable of looking after him well enough.

They lapsed into silence again after that. Amy rubbed circles on the Doctor’s back and wiped his face down with a flannel, offering him small sips from the mug of tea every few minutes. Her back was just starting to ache when she heard Rory thumping down the staircase. “Rory,” she called quietly when she heard him pass by on his way to the Doctor’s room. He stuck his head in, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise before settling into a concerned frown.

“This . . . doesn’t look like improvement,” he remarked, kneeling down to pick up the Doctor’s wrist. He glanced at his watch.

“Not really, no,” Amy sighed.

“I’m feeling much better,” the Doctor said, in a very faint voice.

Rory, clearly not believing this for a second, glanced at Amy. “He hasn’t thrown up in almost an hour,” she confirmed. “I think we can move him back to bed.”

“If we can get him up,” Rory said dubiously.

The Doctor sighed. “So sorry, Ponds.”

“Hey,” Amy said, poking him in the shoulder, “don’t even think it. None of this is your fault.” She ran a hand through his hair, which was rather damp and greasy with sweat. Rory, she saw, had switched from taking the Doctor’s pulse to simply holding his hand. “Come on,” she said. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

The Doctor was nearly out on his feet by the time the three of them managed to stagger back to the guestroom. Rory tried to pour another mug of Amy’s now lukewarm tea down him, but it was a lost cause: he was asleep the moment he hit the bed. Amy sat beside him, smoothed his hair back from his face with one hand, and frowned worriedly. “Does he seem like he’s getting worse to you?”

Rory shook his head. “Hopefully that was the worst of it. River wasn’t worried, so I don’t think we should be. Still, I thought I’d call in tonight.”

Amy nodded, relieved. “We don’t have anything in the cupboard. I thought we had some soup, but we must’ve used it all up when I had a cold last month.” She frowned, hand stilling on the Doctor’s forehead. “Truthfully, I thought River’d be back by now.”

“Me too,” Rory said. “But you know how it is with the TARDIS.”

“Yeah, but River’s a better driver than the Doctor.” Much better, actually, Amy thought. It was a point of pride with her daughter. For her to be hours late like this, when she could have returned within a minute or two of leaving was . . . strange.

“I’m sure things are fine,” Rory said, sounding mostly convinced. “Do you want to pop down to the shop or should I?”

Amy shook her head and stood. “I’ll go. I could use the fresh air. Is there anything else I should get?”

“Something with electrolytes, maybe,” Rory said, taking her place on the bed. “Lucozade or similar.”

“Got it,” Amy said. She kissed him. “Back soon.”

The walk into the village was a pleasant half-mile downhill; the walk back, when she was usually laden with grocery bags, was rather less pleasant, but it wasn’t as though she were getting very much today. She zipped up her jumper against the chill autumn breeze as she walked. The days were getting shorter.

There was only one shop in town open after one on Saturday. Amy bought four cans of chicken noodle soup, two bottles of Lucozade (one original and one lemon-flavored), and some more ginger for good measure. Mrs. Jameson, who’d own the shop for as long as Amy could remember, clucked a bit as she rang Amy up. “Rory feeling poorly today, dear?”

“A bit,” she lied, smiling.

“God knows what he’s exposed to, working at that hospital.” Mrs. Jameson handed Amy her bag. “Tell him I hope he feels better soon.”

“I will,” Amy said, and set out back up the road toward the house, bag swinging from one hand. She wondered when her daughter would be back. Tonight? Tomorrow morning? Not a second sooner or later than she wanted to be, Amy suspected. And once she was - well, Amy didn’t pretend for one moment that she and River had anything even approaching a normal mother-daughter relationship, but that wasn’t going to stop her from having a few choice words for River about this situation.

There was no sign of the TARDIS when Amy returned. She took the shopping bag into the kitchen to put everything away and nearly jumped out of her skin when she caught sight of River, leaning in the doorway to the Doctor’s room. “River,” she said, sagging, “God, you scared me to -”

River held a finger to her lips and gestured for Amy to come closer. Amy peered around River’s shoulder to see into the darkened room and then to choke back a laugh. The Doctor and Rory were both sound asleep on the bed. Rory was sitting upright with his head tipped back against the wall, snoring softly; the Doctor had rolled over so his face was smashed into Rory’s side and flung his arm across Rory’s waist as though he were a giant teddy bear.

“Aren’t they precious?” River whispered. “Bless.”

Amy grinned. “Our boys,” she said. “What would we do without them?”

“You and I, Mother?” River replied, raising an eyebrow. “Time only knows.”

 _Time._ Amy felt her smile slip. River looked tired. She’d changed out of the evening gown she’d worn that morning and into jodhpurs and a vest of some sort. The clothes looked rumpled, as though she’d been wearing them a while.

Amy turned away from the guestroom. “Where’s the TARDIS?” she asked, as River followed her into the kitchen. “I didn’t see her in the garden.”

“I cloaked her. Got back just a few minutes ago,” River said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“You took your time,” Amy remarked, stacking the cans of soup in the cupboard.

River shrugged. “You know the TARDIS -”

“Yes,” Amy said, “I know the TARDIS, and I know you. And I know that you didn’t get back one minute later than you intended.” River’s gaze dropped, but Amy didn’t let herself feel sorry for her. “Tell me I’m wrong, River.”

River shook her head. “You’re not wrong.”

Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “Why, River? He was ill. If it’d been you, he’d never have -”

“I know, I _know_ ,” River said, shaking her head. “Do you really think I don’t know that?”

“Then why, River? He needed you, not me or Rory -

“Because I’m _terrible_ at this sort of thing!”

“What, and you think I’m good at it?” Amy replied with a glare. “It doesn’t come naturally to me either, you know. But I do it for Rory, because it’s what you do for the people you love!”

“Yes, well, considering my upbringing, I think I did a good job coming back at all!”

Amy recoiled, shocked. River closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But you have to understand, there wasn’t a lot of nurturing in my childhood. I never got sick, but when I was upset or in pain - there was never anyone there, at least no one who would help. I didn’t even know that someone could be until I came to Leadworth. Do you remember that time, right after I met you -”

“We were riding bikes,” Amy said quietly. “You fell off. Skinned your knee up.” It’d been a bad one, she remembered, with lots of blood, but Mels hadn’t cried at all. Amy had, when she’d run and got her mum, but Mels had been frighteningly stoic.

River nodded. “Your mum cleaned it, put a bandage on it, and kissed it. ‘All better,’ she told me. ‘And you were so brave.’ I couldn’t believe it - I didn’t know until then.”

Amy sighed. “Oh _River_.”

“I knew you and Dad would take care of him. I couldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I had to go, do something useful.”

Amy sighed and went to lean against the counter beside River. “What’d you find out?”

River shook her head. “The poison was deliberate, but it wasn’t for him. New New York has cutthroat politics. Nasty, but not really my business. I left an anonymous tip with the planetary law enforcement.”

“Good,” Amy said, relieved that no one had died - or at least, not at her daughter’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” River said quietly, after a moment. “I knew I should stay, I knew it wasn’t right.”

“It wasn’t,” Amy agreed, “but it’s okay. You came back sooner than I thought you would.”

River looked embarrassed. “Well, I wasn’t entirely lying about the TARDIS. I might’ve been aiming for later tonight. I think she knew what I was up to even better than I did.” She glanced away. “I want to look after him the way he looks after me, the way you and Dad look after each other, but I don’t know how. Help me. Please.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much use I’ll be, but your dad’s the best at this sort of thing. So yeah, we’ll help.” Amy squeezed River’s arm. “Let’s go wake up our Sleeping Beauties.”

Rory startled a little as Amy shook him, mumbling something incoherent before coming fully awake. He looked down at the Doctor, then up at River, hovering uncertainly, and managed a groggy smile. “Hey there. Is New New York still in one piece?”

“So far as I know,” River said. Amy helped Rory extract himself from the Doctor’s grip and slid her arm around his waist, holding him against her. She gave River a little push with her other hand; River sat somewhat abruptly in the spot Rory had just vacated.

The Doctor stirred. “River?”

River hesitated. Not for very long, but Amy was watching for it it. “Hello, sweetie,” she finally said.

The Doctor opened his eyes. “It _is_ you. You came back.” He frowned. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

She shook her head, gave a little laugh. “No.”

“Good,” he sighed, and inched over to settle his head in her lap.

Amy leaned down and covered his hand with hers. “How are you feeling, Doctor?”

“Better now,” he said, and managed to raise himself up on one elbow. “Don’t really think we need to stay the night.”

“House rules,” Rory reminded him. “No arguing.”

“Well, all right,” the Doctor said, as River shot them a grateful look. “But just tonight.”

Amy smiled. “We’ll be around if you need us,” she said, mostly to River. “Rory’s going to call in. No one’s going anywhere right now.”

 _Thank you_ , River mouthed. She looked down at the Doctor’s head, resting in her lap, and stroked his hair. The Doctor made a contented noise and closed his eyes. River glanced up and Amy nodded, giving her a reassuring smile before turning to go. Rory followed her out of the room, and she pulled the door halfway shut behind her.

“Is everything -” Rory started, but Amy hushed him, putting her head close to the door to listen.

“Missed you,” the Doctor was saying, in a low, tired voice. “Wish you hadn’t gone.”

“I had to be sure,” River said. “But I won’t leave again, sweetie, I promise.”

“Good. I’d rather have you where I can see you. Keep you out of trouble.”

River snorted. “Since when have you ever kept anyone out of trouble?”

Amy smiled, satisfied, and tugged Rory along into the sitting room. “Amy?” Rory asked, trailing her. “Is everything all right?”

She turned and kissed him, looping her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she said, when she finally let him go. “Everything’s fine.”

 _Fin._


End file.
